Drowning in Shards
by Ghost of a Curious Cat
Summary: Agents show up in the strangest of places. "All his swimming skill was of no help... He didn't remember getting to his feet, only knew he somehow had." Shark story.


**A/N: I wanted to write that for some time, but some evil rumours on the Wiki promised that there would probably a Season 3 in 2010. So I decided to wait and possibly collect some more information before I ended up writing an inevitable AU. Still, it's 2011 already, and no release dates have been announced (sigh). So I decided writing that would make no difference anyway… (Sigh again)**

**The Wiki is wicked. No pun or poetry intended.**

**Now that I finished my short explanation, on to the story. Enjoy!**

**Warning:**** Some bad words, and one little vulgar hint.**

**Disclaimer:**** Not mine. Wouldn't have left the story at that. *Glare*. Probably...**

Five pairs of eyes – three green, one grey and one blue – met each other in a confident, conspiratorial, daring way. The air of danger surrounding their owners could be almost smelled. Everyone who passed near them and took one glimpse at their faces was either scurrying or striding away, throwing suspicious and cautious glances in their direction, but wisely not slowing their pace. The air was cracking with tension and anticipation, tiny invisible sparkles of electricity charging the entire place, the walls almost tingling with fear and foreboding.

Small smirks twisted the faces of the five people standing in warlike poses near the entrance of the building, followed by a curt purposeful nod.

Team A.T.O.M were going shopping.

And this was one of the few fortunate malls they haven't been to together… yet.

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Two official-looking men were striding, purposefully, slowly and firmly, through the thick rows of cars on the overloaded parking lot. They were not attracting much of attention. Save for their suits, they had that useful ordinary quality to their faces – the one that makes a person overlook hundreds of people who walk past him in the crowd, every day, unnoticed and anonymous. The faces that most wouldn't remember later, no matter how hard they tried.

The two stopped in front of the car that was anything but inconspicuous.

"That was certainly a challenge to discover", one of them commented dryly. "Obviously, modesty is not a quality young people value the most today."

"I suppose," the second one replied, his voice noticeably less cold. Then he cracked a small smile: "But the way you say it makes you sound so old, man. Seriously, one might think that you are a one-hundred-year-old wizened hermit."

"I believe it's better than being a hyperactive, insolent, spoilt, conceited teenager."

That earned him a stare.

"Weren't you a teenager once, or are you like that ever since infancy? I bet your mother was really freaked out…"

"Does the phrase 'we have a work to do, no distractions allowed' mean anything to you?"

"It was you who started the talk in the first place, with all that grumpiness and all. I figure you are either getting old or you are jealous of the car. Probably both. I would totally go for that car, too," he stroked the sleek metal lovingly. "I still hope that one day we'll be paid more and all the agents would be able to afford those!"

His companion rolled his eyes, as if to say 'Yeah, right'.

"If you are finished with falling into your second childhood and daydreaming, we have a work to do. They are coming back."

"Yeah," he replied, setting straight his tie, his face becoming a cool indifferent mask. "Let's do it."

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Loud whoos and cheers filled in the parking lot as the team were walking back.

Well, walking was a wrong word to use. Rather, they were rolling on the filled trolleys on the inhuman speed, making the few unfortunate passersby on the parking lot flee in different directions.

"Aaand King is in the homestretch and in the lead…"

"Eat dust, you king of losers! Hawk, the best racer out there, is shooting up forward…"

"Guys…"

"Oh no! In his admiration of his own skills and face he forgets to look ahead and to the side! See ya on the finish, ha-ha!"

"Guys…"

"He-… that's no fair, Lioness!'

"The winner's always right!"

"You haven't won yet…"

"Guys!…"

"Yeah, what is it, Axe-man?"

"There are…"

"Woooah!.."

"Aaaah!.."

There was a loud crash, and after a few moments the trolleys were on the ground, along with all the purchases in it and five people on top of them. Two men in official suits were staring down at them with obvious aggravation.

"…people up ahead," Axel finished, lamely, and added a sheepish smile as a bonus.

"Um, sorry," Lioness smiled in a similar fashion, standing up gracefully.

"Those things need brakes," Shark commented, pointing his thumb at the trolleys, still in no hurry to get up and instead grinning happily.

They didn't get a smile in return.

"I am agent Thomas. This is agent Carter," both showed their IDs in a synchronic, almost automatic manner.

And just like that, they were up, childish mischief cleanly wiped off their faces, quickly replaced by intent, serious gazes. Efficient. Professional.

There seemed to be brief approval in agent Carter's expression.

"Mr. Sharker, isn't it?" agent Thomas's cold grey eyes settled on the blond. "Is there a private place where we could talk?"

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He could have just taken out a gun and waved it in front of their faces, threatening to shoot, for the reaction it caused. Any warmth that might have lingered in their disposition was momentarily gone, defensive vigilance in its place.

"What happened?" Axel. Cool, focused, no-nonsense tone of voice. Dangerous and suspicious.

Agent Thomas rewarded him with a short unreadable glance, but it was Carter who answered, his voice calm, but firm:

"I assure you, Mr. Manning, your friend is not in any trouble. We have a reason to believe that he possesses some information that may be of help in our current investigation."

"What kind of information?" again with the same voice. Posture casual, but tense, on alert.

No surprise there. They had learned, through bitter experience, that even the police couldn't be always trusted. Heck, even their boss couldn't be trusted. Two strangers? Yeah, right.

Like Lioness was ever going to wear pink fluffy dresses with sparkles… willingly.

"We cannot inform you. It is classified," Thomas's voice was calm, too, but there was steel in it – unyielding and cold. No, forget cold – freezing. Axel scowled, obviously displeased. Behind him, King and Lioness slowly moved to almost flank him and partially shield their friend. Their postures were not combat, but spoke of obvious tension – King's fists clenched tight, Lioness's nails digging into her hips.

"Some… circumstances in the inquiry we are holding have lead us to the conclusion that it is somehow connected with the _incident _of twelve years prescription," Carter's voice became intense, and Shark's tan face suddenly grew a few shades paler.

"Shark?" he shook off Lioness's worried hand, ignored the surprised and troubled stares and, looking dazed, walked past Axel to stand in front of him, barely noticing the eyes boring into the back of his head, but murmuring for his friends' sake:

"It's okay, dudes…"

Then he turned his full attention on the two agents. Thomas, interpreting it as consent, gave a small nod and stiffly ordered:

"Please follow us."

A strong heavy hand fell onto Shark's shoulder, both reassuring and commanding.

"He is not going anywhere alone with you," the words were final.

And really, Axel's concern was so understandable, with Shark being the pet kidnapping target for a considerable amount of beasts and villains they had faced. At any other time he would have sighed. It was embarrassing.

"You can talk at Lee Industries," Lioness offered, her tone sounding placating, if still a bit strained. Her green eyes were concerned and felinely inquisitive. "I'm sure Garrett will manage to find you a room."

Both agents nodded, easily prepared to compromise.

"Very well."

"But you'll have to wait until we get all the stuff into the car," Hawk added from the rear. "We paid for that, you know."

And Shark didn't know whether he wanted to scream at him for his evident lack of concern or hug him for providing a distraction and granting him a respite.

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"Want to tell us what it is about?" – Axel wondered in the thoughtful silence of the car. He sounded calm, sympathetic and genuinely concerned, but not enough to seem obtrusive.

Shark was absently watching the black car following them through the rearview mirror, so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't even seem to hear the question. Eventually, though, he blew a small sigh and answered:

"No. Not really. Not… not yet."

"Okay," Axel drew back easily, disappointed, but instinctively knowing it wasn't time to push.

The silence wasn't broken after that.

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Shark slouched in the chair, watching expectantly as two agents took out their papers and the recorder and arranged them on the table.

"Telling me why this investigation was raised from the archives would really help, you know."

"You know we cannot do that, Mr. Sharker."

If there was one thing he hated about the feds, it was the way everything in them screamed detachment – the blank face, the cold voice, the stiff posture. It made him feel like he was merely an object in their research, not a human being with feelings and personality. He consciously suppressed the nervousness that thought awakened.

To be honest with himself, he wasn't sure that he'd be able to keep it together when the questions began. He never told anyone about what had happened, the reason being that most his memories were both consciously and unconsciously suppressed. But every time he actually tried to remember, he couldn't keep himself from getting completely tangled in the bright vivid flashbacks, which was really weird because so much time had passed. He preferred to think that it was simply because he never dealt properly with the memories. Some part of him, though, knew that it wasn't completely normal, the way he could recall almost everything about that night, in every tiny detail, like it happened yesterday, if he only tried.

His fingers tangled in a tight knot, his knuckles white.

"We are ready to begin."

"I'm not sure what you want me to tell you. I was just a kid. I don't remember much." _Liar._

"Anything you recall could be useful."

He nodded, and the button on the recorder clicked under Carter's finger. Shark took in a deep breath. There. No way back now.

"Mr. Sharker, please tell us what you remember about the day your father was murdered."

"It was just a common day. Nothing unusual I can think of. I believe Dad took me to the playground, we watched some TV… That's it."

"When did you notice something was wrong?"

"That night. Can't recall exactly – I either couldn't sleep or have awakened – but I was scared. Something was off."

"Can you remember what that was precisely?"

"No. No… It was more of a feeling… I probably heard something, or it was too quiet…"

"What did you do then?"

"Just what any frightened kid would have done. I went to Dad's bedroom. Only… he wasn't there. His bed wasn't made, like he just slept in it, but he wasn't anywhere in the room. I… I panicked, then. Wasn't sure what made me do that, but I hid in the closet… and… it was like my body was completely frozen, I couldn't… couldn't move… at all. But at the same time, all my other senses seemed to suddenly… sharpen, like I could see and hear things that were probably not there at all… I'm not sure how much of that was actually real or simply a part of what my wild overactive imagination has conjured."

"What did you hear?"

"Voices. One of them unknown, a male one, smooth and almost gentle, but… there was something dangerous and scary about that one, almost unnatural… but then again, it could be just my imagination talking… and second most certainly Dad's, only it sounded… wrong somehow."

"Could you specify that?"

"He was really, really angry. Angrier than I ever heard him. And, now that I think about it, he sounded scared, too…"

"What did they talk about?"

"Dunno. Couldn't hear the words. Didn't really try to, had other things on my mind…"

"You said you saw something too. What was it?"

"There was light, like someone entered the room and turned it on, but it was switched off almost immediately. Oh, and footsteps. Can tell almost for sure they weren't Dad's – these were lighter. Came in, then came out… for a while. The voices wouldn't shut up… Then there was a crash, downstairs, like glass breaking…"

"Could you determine if there were any gunshots or lasers involved?"

"I don't know, okay?.. Couldn't hear them… Wouldn't recognize them if I had… Gees. The only thing I remember is sitting there, afraid to breathe, because breathing was loud and they could find me…"

"Alright. Please go on."

"There was… running… and I could hear Dad call my name, but I… simply couldn't move… and he screamed and screamed it… h-he sounded so panicked, s-so scared, I never heard him like this before, and… i-it made me freeze f-from inside out with terror… and I couldn't move… and he started… started to shout… he thought… he thought th-they did something to me.. and I knew I should move… a-and he sounded so desperate and I knew I-I should just… just move and tell him I'm okay… but I couldn't. Just… couldn't…"

He only realized his cheeks were wet when he felt something cool splash onto his arm. And when had his palm gripped the necklace?.. He didn't remember. He should have. The grip was so tight it hurt.

He consciously made himself let go of the tooth and took a deep shaky breath. The feds were watching. Calm. Expectant. Indifferent.

He felt like an insect on a pin.

Some part of him wished to cut off this interrogation right there and then, but another, one that was sure that the feds wouldn't give up that easily, just wanted to get this over with. Hopefully, it would be worth it and they would find the murderer and finally give him what he deserves. Hopefully, he would eventually find out the truth, and his life would become easier. Hopefully, what he went through that night wouldn't have to happen to anyone else.

A man could always _hope_. Pointless or not, it is the thing that leaves him last, regardless of how desperate the situation is. People are weird, stubborn creatures that cling to hope, no matter how weak or ghostly, and refuse to let go of it until the very end. And even then, they still _hope_ that this is not the end.

…And even if that philosophical part of him did come in handy in situations when something had to keep him sane (namely in his extensive experience of being kidnapped), now was not the time. He had to face the beast, and _hope_ that he would be able to keep it together.

"I heard the door of the bedroom slam into the wall. There was noise… like someone was fighting…"

"In the bedroom?"

"Yeah… yeah, I think so…"

"Was the light on?"

"No-no-no, that's for certain… 'Cause then… Oh God…"

He knew he was shaking. Could feel his fingers dig into his shoulders in useless effort to stop it. Felt the wetness drip onto his forearms. Knew how pathetic and weak he looked.

Didn't care.

"There… there was that faint… light… it was red, and it was glowing… and those s-sounds, like… like someone was choking… and the smell… oh God, the smell…"

He was going to lose it. He knew it. His hand moved from his shoulder to press against his mouth in attempt to stop the rising bile. His face felt cold and wet under his palm.

"Do you remember…"

"No," he managed to get out, his voice hoarse and quiet. _Please. Just stop. Don't make me..._ "No… it's… all a… blur… after that…"

But somewhere underneath the pulse in his temples beat a tingly evasive thought. _You are lying._ There was something else. Something he had suppressed. Something he couldn't handle. Something that he pretended had _never_ happened.

The thought that he was lying to himself was more than he could bear.

Emotions overwhelmed him, just like in his nightmares that made him revive that night over and over until every tiny detail had been engraved into his memory with enough sharpness to draw blood. All his swimming skill was of no help at all – he was drowning in them, again, and they were real, familiar, almost palpable. Helplessness. Repulsion. Shame. And most of all, mind-numbing terror.

He had suppressed the memories of that, and now he knew it was for a good reason. He didn't _want_ to remember.

Thomas was asking something else, but he couldn't understand a word to save his life. He didn't even try to concentrate on the voice. It was uncaring and cold, and brought only memories and pain. He shut his eyes and shook his head, vigorously, his palms over his ears in attempt to drown out the sound, but it wouldn't go away. And again, he was back in the dark closet, trapped, with the voices yelling and mocking and laughing.

It was hard to breathe. Claustrophobia slammed down on him like a tsunami, and the only thing he wanted was _out_. He didn't remember getting to his feet, only knew he somehow had.

When had the room started spinning? And where was his awesome sense of balance when he needed it? He gripped the back of his chair tightly in attempt to stay upright, but only succeeded in making his nausea worse.

_Don't throw up. Don't throw up. Don't…_

The door was suddenly slammed open.

"The interrogation is over."

Axel. His voice was distant, as if muffled by a thick wall of wool and cotton, but Shark felt himself relax almost immediately at the sound. There were more voices, but he couldn't make them out anymore. Letting his guard down turned out to be a mistake, as he lost the last resort that kept him up and felt himself tilt and fall, fall…

Strong hands caught him before he hit the floor, and the last thing he remembered was green eyes and a glimpse of red hair before the darkness claimed him.

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"_You sure that's a good idea?" Lioness glared at the laptop in disapproval, arms crossed. Axel, for once, was uncertain behind her back, his natural respect for his teammates' privacy battling with his curiosity and worry. _

_Garrett straightened his glasses, mutely playing the neutral part, but still reasonably curious._

_In front of the laptop King was typing away, diligently and rapidly, and he only lifted his head for a short confident "I'm not taking any chances". Hawk bent over his shoulder, looking at the screen with a non-wavering greedy gaze, as if it held all the answers in the world. Noticing the mutual puzzlement it caused, he instantly became defensive:_

"_What? I'm not missing this. It's blackmail material of the century."_

_This earned him open-mouthed indignant stares and a harsh knock over the head from Lioness._

"_Don't. Even. Think. About it!" _

"_Okay… okay! Ow!.."_

_Satisfied, she huffed and mercifully left him, striding past his cowering form with deadly feline grace. _

"_Got it…"_

_The screen came to life, transmitting the picture that multiple cameras in Lee Industries were sending. The laptop was suddenly closely surrounded, and for a few moments there was no sound in the room save for the clicking of the keyboard. Then, after a momentary disturbance, the speakers started talking._

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To say that Axel was angry was like saying that the sun was just a little hot. He was fuming with anger. Enraged. Absolutely furious.

_How dare they…_

His jaw was clenched so tight he could feel the teeth creaking. Fast and deadly dangerous, he dashed to the room where Shark was questioned as if the building was on fire. It could have as well been, for all he was seeing was _red_.

Red was obscuring his vision in hazy drunken mist, and red was pumping loudly in his veins with every infuriated heartbeat. But his mind was cold, icily so, and aching to hurt _someone_. A _certain_ someone. Make it _two_ certain someones.

Dimly he was aware of the team following him, and sharing his sentiment.

As if it wasn't enough to find out that one of his team members had lost, much like himself, his father when he was just a kid, and that his death had been horrible, the men just had to be total _bastards_ about it.

Special agents or not, they were _leaving_. He didn't care for their investigation. He would, later, when Shark would be fine and miles away from them, but now he just wanted to Jou Lan their asses straight through the window. Not that he would of course, but one could wish, right?..

The kick the innocent door received almost broke it off its hinges and threw it against the wall with such force that the handle left a small hole in it, and the door itself cracked. He would have to apologize to Garrett for that later.

For now, it helped him to make a point.

"The interrogation is over."

He was amazed how icy his voice sounded, despite the burbling volcano inside him.

"In for flashy entrances, aren't you?" agent Thomas's gaze had the same indifferent quality to it. Axel couldn't believe the nerve of this man. "Please leave the room, Mr. Manning. We are not done yet."

"Yes you are."

If it was possible, Lioness looked even more furious than Axel felt.

Hawk suddenly zapped past him, a moment before Axel noticed the reason for his anxious haste. Shark tilted dangerously, and the next moment he was out cold, spread half on the floor and half in his friend's arms, his face faintly green and wet with tears.

The sight made him seethe with rage and worry.

"Um… probably we did go a tad too far…" Carter had the decency to look uneasy. The urge to hit him became stronger every minute.

"Have you _ever_ heard of human approach? You work with people, you dumbasses! So have you?" Lioness's eyes were positively sparkling with furious yellow electricity.

"We don't have time to be gentle," Thomas snapped out. "Besides, we couldn't have known he'd react like this. It was a long time ago. He had time to recover and deal with it."

"You saw what remembering that did to him," King's voice was low and threatening, his mouth set in a grim line. "You should have stopped and given him a break, not _break_ _him_!"

"What's the point in putting it off? Tearing the knife out in one go is less painful. It's better to get this over at once," Thomas serenely replied.

"Well, this _is_ over," Axel stated levelly. "You got what you wanted. Now get out."

"It is only over when _we_ say so. Or do I have to involve some legal intervention?"

Their eyes met in two identical murderous glares.

"Let's be civil about it," agent Carter said, placating. "Mr. Manning, my apologies. I am afraid we got carried away. I assure you, we didn't mean any harm, but the situation we are in suggests that we undertake urgent measures. I am aware this is not an excuse, but I am sorry…"

"You should be."

"However, you should understand that questioning Mr. Sharker is extremely important for our case. Knowledge he may possess…"

"I don't give a rat's tail about your investigation."

"We have already established that we can give you no vital information, but you are not a stupid man, Mr. Manning. And once you take some time to calm down and think this over, carefully, you might come across the reason as to why it is essential that we get to the bottom of this."

"Terry."

Thomas's tone contained a sharp warning.

Carter nodded and said, not seeming really guilty:

"Sorry, Stephen."

He began to pack the things on the table into the suitcase, then took his calling card out of his pocket and put it on now clear surface, knowing that nobody in this room would take it.

"Give us a call when you think it over."

He didn't look surprised to be faced with glares as his only answer. Also, he thankfully knew better than to say something trivial, like thanking them for their help, 'cause that would certainly earn him a punch to the face.

Garrett, who had finally caught up with the team, briefly evaluated the situation from the doorway.

"I will show you to the exit."

There was no open hostility in the suggestion, in fact, it sounded almost entirely neutral, save for the additional layer of coldness in Garrett's otherwise impeccable politeness. You had to know him really well to tell the difference.

Axel was truly grateful Garrett was there. He was even more grateful when he left, because both agents left with him.

The moment they disappeared, it was as if they were never in the room, the team's attention instantly diverted elsewhere.

"Hey, man," Hawk shifted the weight in his arms so that Shark's head rested against his chest, the redhead's arm supporting his shoulders. He used his now free hand to feel for the pulse on Shark's neck and frowned, apparently not liking what he found. He slapped the pale cheek gently: "Hey.."

If it hadn't been for the situation, Axel would have been fascinated and knocked into the ground with shock by the normally self-centered pilot's actions. As it was, he simply sank onto the floor near them and inquired:

"How is he?"

"Pulse shallow and rapid, but I have no idea what could cause this… Psychological shock doesn't do that, and he might have had a panic attack, but his heartbeat should be strong, even if too fast…" He suddenly paused in his absent thoughtful muttering and paled. "Oh shoot…"

Quickly and gently, he lowered his friend back on the floor and put an ear to his chest. It was as if time has stopped. Axel could feel his own adrenaline rising, but didn't dare speak up and ask the feared question. But, to his immense relief, after a few agonizingly long seconds Hawk sat up straight with a shaky, but relieved sigh.

"No murmur that I can hear… Heartbeat's regular and sounds strong enough, but still weaker than I would have liked." Then his voice raised a notch as he crossly looked at his unconscious friend. "Dammit, Shark, don't scare me like that! I'm going to have wrinkles! Oh, and grey hairs… Grey hairs in my beautiful, perfect, impeccable hairstyle! Imagine what would happen to my career!"

Axel almost expected the blond to grin widely and laugh at the thought of Hawk being scared for him. No way would he have let it slide. Hawk would have to endure merciless teasing for a very, very long time…

Only Shark didn't laugh. Didn't smile. Didn't even move. Just lay there, pale and still and motionless, and you had to strain your vision to notice his chest rise and fall.

"Maybe we should take him to the hospital…" Lioness ignored Hawk's rambling and laid a gentle palm on Shark's forehead, but jerked it away almost immediately as if burnt and took his hand instead. "Dios… He's so cold…"

She squeezed her eyes shut, and Axel could easily tell she struggled not to cry. He couldn't blame her. He couldn't understand how the day had turned out so horribly wrong either.

"I don't think it's absolutely necessary," Axel said. "He was fine in the morning, so it could really be just emotional shock. In this case he'd be better off here than in the ward. Let's just get him off the floor and find a warm blanket."

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It was strange and somewhat frightening, seeing him curled on the couch, almost entirely buried in a blanket. King had never seen Shark sleep like that before. He hardly ever slept on his side, mostly on his back or stomach. Not to mention, Shark was rarely the one sensitive to the cold. His blond hair and blue eyes gave him somewhat of a Nordic appearance. If it hadn't been for his tan skin, delicate jaw line and unfailingly cheerful disposition, his devotion to the sea would have completed the image of a Viking.

Vikings were supposed to be hale, tough and hardened. Right now, though, Shark looked anything but, and King was surprised at the strength of elder brother protectiveness that thought evoked. Did Shark even have an elder brother? Younger one? A sister? A cousin? What had his childhood been like?

He tried to find the answers, stumbling about his memories in search for something, _something_ Shark had told them, but drew up almost a complete blank. Some of his recollections, though, suddenly shone in a completely different light. Others left more questions than answers.

He remembered meeting Shark's mother once. She seemed nice enough, cheerful, talkative and carefree, just like her son, but to think of it, she never did what other parents and King's nanny were habitually doing. She never talked about Shark as a kid – no moving recollections, no praising his premature skills, no embarrassing memories, nothing. She didn't even call him by the name. Ashamed, King realized that he in fact didn't even know what his first name actually was, save for embarrassing Herbert as a second. (1) Maybe the first wasn't the one to be proud of, either, but why the heck had he never even asked?

There were _a lot_ of things that he should have probably asked. For one, if Pipeline was the one who raised Shark, where was his father? He hadn't given the question a second thought back then, having other things on his mind. Now, knowing the truth, he felt horribly ashamed. Shark probably thought they didn't even care.

He kept replaying Shark's commentary on that Christmas day, about Axel not knowing how lucky he was. Shark wasn't generally known to be callous, but what the heck had the commentary meant then? Did it refer to his father's death, or did he have other secrets to hide?

…Shark almost always had his hands in his pockets. The generally casual gesture had a new meaning now.

And this time, King was determined to find out the truth. No more unanswered questions.

As if sensing the thought, Shark suddenly shivered and curled tighter on himself. His head made a small jerky, anxious movement, as if he was having a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. And for the second time that day, Hawk was by his side before anyone even realized something was wrong.

"Hey, man. You with me? Come on, wake up, you Sleeping Beauty… No one here's gonna kiss you, least of all me, so you'd better cut off with the drama and just snap out of it."

Seeing an obnoxious selfish redhead act like this was really odd. The contrast was so sharp that King had a vague fear that Hawk had been substituted. Some part of him, though astonished and shocked, knew, however, that it was not the case.

King was pretty sure that the redhead wasn't actually so selfish and unfeeling as he tried to appear. Not through and through, at least.

And the fact was that Hawk was, like everyone in the team, worried and scared. Scared out of his mind, and unsure what to do with the feeling, wanting to make it better, but completely in the dark as to how. Because really, Shark not being his optimistic self? Felt like the end of the world. Or their team as it was, at least.

Briefly, King had to wonder how much of Shark's life Hawk was privy to. Most likely more than anyone else in the team, but hardly by far.

It was a well-known fact that the two were best friends, despite their differences, but Hawk rarely, if ever, displayed any concern towards his teammates. It was hard to picture him willingly go for the chick-flick talk.

And still, he seemed to know Shark better than anyone else present in the room.

Blue eyes opened, slowly, lethargically, exhaustedly, looked around at everyone in the room, and then blinked in surprise:

"Dudes… What's with those gloomy faces? Who died?"

Well, that was _certainly_ a surprise. King refrained from the obvious "your Dad did" and joined the team in gaping speechlessly at the surfer, no one knowing how to go about the situation. Shark shrugged, shivered again and buried himself deeper into the blanket, muttering:

"And why is it so cold in here? One would think we're not in the middle of the summer… Weird…"

"How do you feel?" Lioness asked, making a small step as if to approach him, but then changing her mind.

He seemed to think for a while, then answered absently:

"Okay… I guess. A tad tired and cold, but nothing that I can't handle."

"Shark," Axel began, carefully. "What's the last thing you remember?"

He frowned thoughtfully.

"Not sure. Remember shopping for our new home… Remember Hawk getting lost in the hair product department…" he cracked a genuine smile, then laughed. "Remember the girls in the department get the wrong idea…"

Hawk's cheeks went so red it looked like you could fry pancakes on his face. King couldn't help it. He laughed.

"It's not what we want to know!" Hawk huffed, and as much as King wanted to disagree and find out the details, he knew it had to wait. "_After_ the department store, Shark. What did you do?"

"We went trolley-racing. Lioness was winning, but then there were those agents, and… oh, shells and starfish…"

That green tinge on his face reappeared again, and King was pretty sure that it wasn't Shark's colour. Concerned, he rose from his chair, but Shark shook his head in response to the team's troubled gestures and stares before they could do or ask anything.

"It's okay. Did I…" he paused, scrunching up his face in an obvious distaste for the word, but was man enough to say it. "Did I… _pass out?_"

"More like fainted like a little girl," Hawk grumbled, his arms crossed. Shark flinched, obviously embarrassed, and covered his cheeks with his palms. Hawk only smiled, pleased with himself. King would have been angry, probably, but he too had seen the ugly green on his face melt into slight pink, and was grateful for it.

"Dude, I'm never gonna live this down…"

"Not your fault," Lioness sharply interrupted, but it was clear to everyone present that the bite in her voice wasn't directed at Shark.

He eyed her appraisingly, then asked:

"How much did you hear?"

"Everything," she said, quieter this time, and just a little guilty. "Garrett told King how to hack into the cameras in the room…"

_Not only have we heard everything, but we have it recorded_ remained mercifully unspoken.

"Shark," Lioness began, pleadingly. "I know we shouldn't have…"

"It's okay. Really, it is. Saved me the trouble of telling you anyway…" he smiled tightly, but there was no mirth in the smile, just sadness and exhaustion. That cut King deeper than any knife could have. Shark's smiles were always so bright, heartfelt and sincere they almost seemed to be glowing.

"Why have you never told us before?" Axel asked, anxiously, and it was clear that he had been itching to ask the question from the very beginning but had held himself back. "You know we would understand. You know _I_ would understand!"

Shark shrugged, again.

"You never asked?" It sounded more like a question than a statement, and Shark's voice was humble, as if he were apologizing for something. "I didn't want to remember. Remembering always feels like going through that night all over again… That, and…" He paused, as if unsure whether he wanted to continue, then frowned resolutely and finished with courageous honesty. "To tell the truth, I was ashamed."

That was certainly not what they had expected. A moment, and the bomb ticked off.

"What the heck _you_ have to be ashamed about?" Hawk demanded, looking astonished and slightly angry.

"Shark, it wasn't your fault!" King exclaimed, outraged, barely keeping himself from just coming over to the couch and shaking some common sense into the blond.

"King's right!" Lioness was baffled, but determined, her eyes wide with astonishment and worry. "You were just a kid! No one sane is going to blame you for being scared!"

"You couldn't have done anything," Axel stated simply, sadly. "Revealing yourself would have only gotten you killed."

"Thanks, but… that's not what I am talking about."

That shut them all up.

"It's just that…" Shark sat up slowly on the couch and fixed Axel with an intent gaze. "When we just met, one of the first things we found out about Axe-man here is that he is looking into the murder of his father. Investigating the case, searching for the truth against all odds… Compared to that, I was – still am – a coward. The only thing I wanted since the murder is forget that it ever happened… even remembering about it hurts. And now it feels like I'm betraying my father by disregarding his death in favor of my own comfort. Can't face my fears, you know? So telling about it… I didn't know if I'd be ever able to face you guys again if I had. Wasn't sure how you'd react, either. And 'sides, how do you imagine me beginning the conversation? 'Hey dudes, know what, my father had been brutally killed in a mysterious way when I was just a kid?' It just never really came up, I guess…"

He stopped talking and dropped his eyes, undoubtedly ashamed and surely not hoping for anything good to come out of his confession. There was silence afterwards. They didn't really know how to respond to what he revealed to them. How does one respond to that?..

Obviously, Lioness was the only one who knew the answer. Confidently, she strode forward and enfolded Shark gently in her arms. He flinched slightly, not expecting the contact (he looked like he had been awaiting a blow or something), but she didn't pull back and only held him tighter. Helplessly, he looked at Axel as if to say 'It's not my fault', but there was no anger or jealousy in the leader's eyes. There was compassion, sympathy and understanding, the depth of which nobody but Shark and Axel could fully grasp. This understanding only came with experience, and God forbid, King never wanted such an experience on his own plate.

"We would never detest you," Lioness said, quietly, her voice sounding both convincing and shaky with emotion. "Never. Not for something like that."

He seemed to relax and sag in her embrace a little at the words, his arms rising to hug her hesitantly back. Her hand moved to his back to rub small soothing circles, and his eyes slid shut again, reminding everyone how spent he was.

Though King didn't claim to be an expert in human relationships – that was more of the girls' comfort zone, and technology was so much more predictable and easy to handle – even he could see that there was nothing even remotely romantic about the embrace. He was pretty sure Axel understood that, too. Lioness was fully engulfed by a motherly impulse that all girls seemed to have, pleased that she hadn't been pushed away and only too happy to provide all the comfort she could. King had been on the receiving end of those outbursts more than once, including the ones from Lioness, and knew what it looked like. With four brothers Lioness must have had a lot of experience in that kind of thing.

And Shark… well, Shark just needed someone to be there for him. It didn't look like he had much of that. The thought reawakened his previous musings and made him suddenly angry.

"You are not going to face it alone," King said with protective confidence that surprised even him, making Shark's eyes snap open again and stare at him in surprise. "Not until we are here."

"We will find out what happened," Hawk's voice held its normal self-assurance and arrogance which this time managed not to sound insulting. "And those guys are going to pay big time. No worries, Zack Hawkes is on it, so it's bound to turn out just fine."

Axel studied him, not in a hurry to take action:

"You think you are ready to do that?"

Lioness pulled back, giving him space, but not getting up from the couch.

King watched intently, anxiously as the internal struggle unfolded itself on Shark's expressive face. For a moment, he feared that they took too much on themselves, that the answer would be a firm no, but still he watched and hoped, hoped…

Shark suddenly smiled, and his smile was lighter, happier… and grateful.

"Ready when you are."

King grinned back, then suddenly remembered something.

"By the way, Shark, what's your real first name?"

If he hadn't known better, he'd say that his smile became sly. The moment was too short to say for sure, however. He yawned widely and settled comfortably under the blanket, his eyes falling gradually shut as if his eyelids were too heavy to be held up. In an instant, he was soundly asleep.

A.T.O.M.A.T.O.M.A.T.O.M.A.T.O.M.A.T.O.M.A.T.O.M.A.T.O.M.A.T.O.M.A.T.O.M

"You shouldn't have given in, Terry," agent Thomas grumbled, putting his suitcase on the table in a short abrupt movement. "We should have stood our ground. Have you seen their faces? Pigs will fly before they willingly give us a call."

Agent Carter only smiled coyly. "Chill out, Stephen, I'm sure it won't be long before you are able to ask Mr. Sharker why his mother decided to take an urgent trip to China out of the blue… And inquire as to how Michael Antony Anderson became Ollie Herbert Sharker at the age of eight."

Thomas plopped onto his chair, looking tired and irritated:

"I hope so."

**The End?**

(1) Okay, that is probably debatable, but I'm pretty sure none of the team, save for maybe Hawk, know Shark's first name, unless they asked it specifically somewhere off the screen. Otherwise they wouldn't have acted so surprised when Hawk used 'Herbert' as an insult. Since they automatically assumed that it was his first name, they obviously didn't know what his first name actually was… And probably still don't.

**That's it, dudes and ladies ****:) Reviews are loved, concrit adored and appreciated, flames don't mix well with water. See ya!**


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